


Something Cheesy

by reddiespaghetticonfetti



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Beverly Marsh Knows Everything, Beverly Marsh is a Good Friend, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Boys In Love, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Fluff, Fluff and more fluff, Gay, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Idiots in Love, M/M, Matchmaker Beverly Marsh, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Oblivious Richie Tozier, Pining, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Richie Tozier, Stanley Uris is a Good Friend, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, eddie is a runer, have fun reading my shitty writing, just a teeny tiny bit of angst, lmao this is bad but whatever, richie is living for it, they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 00:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19073677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddiespaghetticonfetti/pseuds/reddiespaghetticonfetti
Summary: Richie is in love with Eddie and has no idea what to do.





	Something Cheesy

**Author's Note:**

> hi i didn't proofread at all, so sorry in advance

Richie thought a lot more than he let on, letting his mind wander during class, while riding his bike, while he was trying to fall asleep. He had lots of opinions about everyone and everything, his friends included. 

For example, he thought that Stan was too uptight and that Bill doubted himself too much. Beverly needed to smoke less, she was smoking twice as much as him these days. He thought that Ben’s poetry, as much as he made fun of it, was beautiful. He knew how much Mike cared about the Losers and knew that Stan cared about them just as much. 

And that wasn't all. He had a whole different section of his brain devoted to Eddie.

Eddie, whose eyes, as cheesy as it sounds, sparkled. Eddie, whose smile was almost infectious. Eddie, who grew out of his red short shorts last year, but still wore them (and, in Richie’s opinion, looked great in them). Eddie, whose skin was painted with constellations of freckles. They were scattered all over his body and face, almost hidden by his tan, but not quite. Eddie, who would clean Richie’s cuts after he fell off his bike over and over and over again. Eddie, who, when he thought Richie wasn't looking, would organize little bits of his room. Eddie, whose jokes were so much funnier than his. Eddie, who stood by him when no one else would.

Eddie, Richie’s best friend.

Eddie was captain of the track team, and track was a pretty big thing at their school. All of the guys who played basketball, baseball, soccer, basically any sport, would join the track team in their off-season. 

Eddie had never been one for sports, but he could run faster than anybody else Richie knew. He was tiny, a mere 5’4, but he could make all 37 of the boys fall into line with one glare. These attributes were probably why he was made captain. 

Despite his intimidating glares, a lot of people wanted to be friends with Eddie, a lot more than Richie had predicted. Eddie had even been asked out by a few girls. Richie, not particularly wanting to know if he had said yes or not, steered around the topic, and didn’t mention the attention that Eddie was getting, he didn’t want to sound jealous. 

So, yeah, Eddie was popular. But that didn’t stop him from sitting with the Losers every day, going to the quarry after track, and having weekly sleepovers with Richie. 

Everything was great and everyone was happy, except for the fact that Richie was totally and utterly in love with Eddie and had no idea what to do. 

Spending time with him was getting more difficult by the day; Richie was convinced that Eddie was getting cuter overnight. It wasn’t until one Friday in January that Richie realized that he had to do something. 

Eddie was over at Richie’s house for one of their weekly movie nights and everything was how it had always been, they ordered a pizza, sat on the couch, curled up in a blanket, and listened to the radio. 

Eddie was using Richie as a pillow, he had snuggled up to him and pressed his face into Richie’s chest. Richie’s stomach was flipping all over the place, threatening to jump out of him. Had Eddie’s hair always been this soft? He didn’t think so. 

He reached a hand down to his chest and ran his fingers through Eddie’s hair. Richie waited for Eddie to say something, but he didn’t, so Richie assumed he was asleep. He continued playing with the smaller boy’s hair until he was feeling drowsy himself. 

The song on the radio died out and a new one started playing, “Africa” by Toto. 

Eddie immediately shot up from the couch, “I LOVE THIS SONG!” He reached a hand out to Richie, “c’mon sleepyhead, get up and dance with me.”

Had Eddie been awake this whole time? If he had, why hadn’t he said anything? Surely he must’ve found what Richie was doing a little bit strange. Richie decided that he must be dreaming, so he just went along with it. 

“Alright, alright. You know how to dance, right cutie?”

“What do you mean, Rich? ‘Course I know how to dance.” He twirled in a circle and started dancing around the room. Richie chuckled, this was certainly not what he had in mind, but entertaining nonetheless. 

Eddie stopped abruptly, “Hey! What are you laughing at Richie? I’ll have you know that I’m an incredible dancer.”

“I don’t doubt it. I just thought you meant the other kind of dancing.”

Eddie’s face seemed to turn a light shade of pink, but maybe Richie was dreaming. 

“Oh. Well, in that case, I don’t know how to dance.” Eddie looked expectantly at Richie.

Richie searched Eddie’s face to see if he was reading the situation right. He decided to just go for it if it didn't work he could just joke it off. 

“Uhh, well, I could teach you. If you want. If not it’s totally fine, I mean, I guess it’s kind of weird to dance with your best friend, but it would be good to learn for, like, school dances and stuff. But if you don’t want to, you don’t have to—“

“I’d love to, Rich, thank you.”

Richie’s eyes widened, this was what he thought was going to happen, hoped was going to happen. He just didn't think he’d get this far.

“Uh, okay. So first, uh, I guess you put your hands on my shoulders,” Richie sputtered. 

Eddie’s hands traveled to Richie’s shoulders. Richie reached his hands down, rested them on Eddie's hips, decided this was too low, and settled for his waist.

“So what now, Rich?”

“Now we dance.”

After a few songs, Eddie managed to stop stepping on Richie’s toes every 2 seconds. They started to get into the rhythm of the music. Eddie, who was obviously very tired leaned his head against Richie’s chest for the second time that night.

Richie was as awake as he could be. His heart was beating so fast he wouldn't have been surprised if Eddie could hear it. After a few more minutes of this, he decided that Eddie needed to go to sleep.

“Are you tired, spaghetti? Do you want to go to bed?”

Eddie just nodded.

“Alright, up we go.” Richie scooped Eddie into his arms and carried him to his room.

He gently placed Eddie on his bed and tucked him in. When he was sure that Eddie was as comfortable as he could be, he went to the closet and brought out a sleeping bag. He was just about to unroll it when he heard a grumble from Eddie.

“Richie m'cold,” he whined, “c’mere.”

Richie hesitantly walked over to him and, as soon as he was within the reach of Eddie’s hand, was pulled down onto the bed. 

And that’s where he fell asleep, with Eddie’s head resting on his chest for the third time that night.

\---

That Saturday, after Eddie had gone home, Richie wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. 

He listened to the radio for a while, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. 

Had last night all been a dream? That didn't make sense, he had woken up in the same position he had fallen asleep in. But, then again, Eddie had mentioned nothing of their dancing that morning.

Actually, Eddie seemed like he was in quite a rush to leave. Richie wondered if he was angry at him. Should he not have danced with him? Or maybe it was the part where Eddie fell asleep in his embrace. That's not usually something that friends do, maybe Richie had overstepped a boundary.

Richie didn't really know what to do. It would be weird to talk to Eddie, he didn't even know what he would say.

He knew someone who could help him with that, though.

\---

Richie strolled up to the diner in no rush. He liked to be ‘fashionably late’, as he called it. The other losers, especially Stan, constantly told him to stop doing it because it was ‘fashionably annoying’.

“Didn't know if you’d show, Marsh”

“Yes you did, you little shit, I always show.” Beverly took a drag from her cigarette, “And, by the way, you’re 42 minutes late, that's got to be a new record for you. What’d you need to talk to me about?”

“Aah, you know, love and shit,” Richie said, thinking about the previous night.

“Oh my god, you’re finally admitting it” Bev had a smirk on her face.

“Admitting what?”

“That you’re in love with him, dumbass.”

“In love with who?” Richie suddenly felt very defensive. Did she know? She couldn't know, he had never told a soul in his life.

“You know who, Richie, I just want to hear you say it.”

“Okay fine, I'm in love with Eddie. Happy?”

“Oh very. Stan and I were convinced that we would have to lock you two in a closet to get you to confront this.”

“Why would you do that? Eddie doesn't even like me.”

“Why the hell would you think that?” The look of shock on Bev’s face was beyond Richie, how the hell could he not think that?

“Well, for starters, he’s obviously straight--”

Beverly let out a snort.

“What? He’s gotten asked out by, like, what, eight girls by now.”

“Yeah, and he’s turned every single one of them down. ‘I just didn't feel a connection, Beverly’,” she mimicked in a high-pitched voice, “‘Don't you think she was a bit old for me, Bev?’ ‘I don’t know, Bev, I guess she’s just not my type’”

“He’s just looking for the right girl--”

“Oh my god, Rich, this is exhausting. There is no right girl. Get it?”

That's when the realization dawned on Richie, “you actually think he likes me back?”

“Yes, idiot, that's what I’m saying.”

“I don't believe you”

“You don't have to believe me, It’s the truth.”

Richie crossed his arms and stared out the window. Was Bev telling the truth? There wasn't any reason for her not to, unless this was some sort of cruel prank, but Richie didn't want to think about that.

“Alright, Tozier, gotta bolt. Ben’s taking me out on a lunch date. Talk to Stan, he’s more prepared for this than I am,”

“Wha-- are you serious?”

“Yeah, we kind of talk about it a lot. Ask him.”

And with that, she was out the door, leaving Richie with his mouth hanging open.

Richie sat in the diner for thirty whole minutes thinking about what he was going to do. He really had nothing to do now, except search for Stan, which was easy because he knew exactly where Stan was every Saturday at exactly this time.

Richie got up from his table, paid for his food (he had gotten an iced coffee and a bagel), and headed in the direction of the park.

\---

“Hey Stan”

Stan started a bit, he had just been staring into his binoculars with a level of concentration that was foreign to Richie.

Richie sat on the bench with him. The park was always nice on Saturdays, as there were, surprisingly, not very many kids around.

“I'm here about, umm, you know. Eddie.” 

“Yeah, I figured when Bev told me she received a very frantic phone call from you the morning after you guys had a sleepover.”

“Oh. Well, she told me you, like, know something? About...”

“Yeah. I do.”

“But, how? I’ve never told anyone.”

“Richie, I've known that you’ve liked him since the fifth grade. And that he’s liked you since the summer before sixth. I figured at least one of you would confess by seventh grade, at the latest,” Richie’s eyes widened. 

“I really was that obvious, huh?”

“Yeah. But I guess not to Eddie, because here we are, middle of tenth grade, and you two are still pining idiots.”

“Okay, but do you even really know that he likes me, or are you just ‘pretty sure’, Cause I can't go on pretty sure.”

“He’s definitely, one hundred percent, in love with you.”

“But is he?”

“Oh my god, Richie. The other day at the quarry when you were late he started crying because he didn't know where you were. And when you did show up, he couldn't take his eyes off you.”

“So what? That doesn't prove anything.”

“He refuses to sit next to anyone but you.”

“And? We’re best friends.”

“You’re oblivious, that's what you are. Just… trust me on this one, Rich.”

Stan slammed his bird book shut, stood up, and walked away, leaving Richie alone with his thoughts.

Leaving Richie alone with his thoughts was always either a really good idea or a really bad idea, even Richie himself knew this. 

Which one was it this time? Well, Richie would have to wait until tomorrow to find out. 

—-

Eddie’s track meets were always a high point in Richie’s week. Getting to watch his Eddie Spaghetti literally obliterate the competition was Richie’s favorite thing. 

This Sunday was no exception. Despite the chilly weather, Richie showed up to the field (pretty much) on time. He was met with the disapproving looks of Stan, Bev, Mike, Ben, and Bill.

Stan and Bev pulled him aside, worried expressions on their faces.

“Seriously, Richie? I’d expect even you to have the decency to show up on time to your best friend’s most important track meet of the year.” Stan looked exasperated.

“Relax, Stan the Man. I was, like, two minutes late.”

“Well, Eddie was just up here talking to us and he was pretty damn afraid that you weren't gonna show. He pulled us aside, looked like he was about to cry, and told us that you probably weren't coming. Something about you thinking he’s weird. Why would he think that, Richie?” Beverly interrogated him.

“I have no idea,” Richie was thoroughly confused, “the last time I saw him was Saturday. We had a sleepover, remember? It was totally normal, we had pizza, watched a movie, listened to the radio, he asked me to teach him how to ballroom dance--”

“Oh my god. That’s it. He thinks you know that he likes you.” Bev explained.

“But he doesn't like me,” Richie exclaimed.

He was met with a chorus of ‘yes he does’ from all of the other losers. Stan and Bev nodded vigorously. They made their way back to their spot on the bleachers and sat down.

“There he is. Make sure he sees that you’re here.” Beverly was pointing at Eddie, who was stretching his legs.

When Eddie finally looked up, Richie waved at him so enthusiastically he thought his hand might fall off. He put on the hugest, goofiest smile he could muster and started bouncing in his seat a little. When he was sure that he had Eddie’s attention, he winked and blew a kiss to him.

Eddie smiled and turned away to tie his shoes, but not before blowing a kiss back to him. Richie took this as somewhat of an accomplishment and looked to Bev for approval.

She simply nodded her head as if she had been watching the whole exchange (she probably had). She knew she was right and had finally proven it to Richie. 

Richie sat impatiently through the meet, Eddie was going last and he didn't really care about any of the other runners.

When it was finally Eddie’s race, Richie watched intently, not wanting to miss a moment. The runner on the other team (number 47) would have been good if he had been compared to anyone else on their team, but against Eddie, he had absolutely no chance. Eddie was incredibly fast, his short legs majestically sprinting to the finish line.

Needless to say, Richie was in awe. He was cheering as loud as he possibly could.

“WOO! GO EDS! THAT'S MY EDDIE SPAGHETTI!”

When he heard Richie’s voice, Eddie turned back to look at him. This led to him tripping and falling flat on his face.

Richie winced, feeling bad for what he had just caused. He silently (he didn't want to make Eddie trip again) willed Eddie to get back up and keep going. He had lapped 47 once, buying him just enough time for a slip up like this.

Number 47 was only a few yards behind him when Eddie finally got back up. He didn't even bother to wipe the dirt off his face. Instead, he sprinted toward the finish line.

By this point, Eddie and 47 were neck in neck. Richie closed his eyes, not wanting to watch Eddie get his first loss of the season, at the most important game of the season, all because of him.

He heard a crowd go wild, he wasn't sure which. Then he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey, Richie, you can open your eyes now. Eddie won.”

Richie blinked open his eyes to see Bev beaming at him.

“Go get your man.”

Richie bolted down the stairs and across the track field, where he came face to face with Eddie.

“Woah, slow down, Rich, the track meet’s over.” Eddie said jokingly, “I won, didn't you he--”

Eddie was cut off by Richie's lips against his own. He took a second to process it, but then leaned into the kiss. Richie lifted him off the ground and spun him around a couple of times.

“Nah, I don't recall anything about winning. I did hear that you fell pretty hard for me out there, though.” Richie said with a smirk, setting Eddie back on the ground.

“Shut up you asshole. Oh my god, that was so cheesy, I cannot believe you.” Eddie was giggling furiously.

“Its fine, Eds, really. Everyone gets distracted by Richie Tozier, you’re in the vast majority.”

Eddie just shook his head and laughed, “I hate you.”

“Well, I sure hope you don't, because I was going to ask you to dinner.”

“Yes, yes, of course! Let me just go get my coat.” Eddie hesitated a bit, reached up to plant a quick peck on Richie's lips, and ran off to the locker rooms to get his coat.

As Richie stood outside waiting for Eddie, he saw Bev and Stan walking to the parking lot. They were holding up a sign that said ‘WE TOLD YOU SO’

Richie looked at their poster, rolled his eyes, and yelled across the field, “I KNOW.”


End file.
